Page 72 of Allegiant

“So, that’s for Neo?”

“Yeah. Like I said, he’s a menace. Knowing Samson though, it’s probably aimed at all of us. He doesn’t like to let anyone in.”

He gives me a significant look that I pretend not to notice. I don’t know what Ansel has gotten in his head about the two of us, but he’s wrong about whatever it is. Samson’s just…being kind. Distracting me. Trying to glue back together the shattered pieces of me he found last night.

The memory of what I’m running from sobers me. I clear my throat, focusing on the here and now. “Maybe we shouldn’t go in. I don’t want to upset him.”

Ansel studies me thoughtfully. “You really don’t, do you?”

I think of his strong arms, how they held me tight throughout the night. The complete lack of judgment in his voice as he tried to console me. “No. I don’t.”

He nods decisively. “And that’s exactly why I think you should see it.”

Ansel throws open the door before I can protest further. I hesitate a few seconds longer before curiosity wins out. Maybe just a few steps inside won’t hurt.

The space is small. Tiny, really. Little bits of dust filter through the sunbeams before settling on the smooth wooden floor. There’s a speaker in the corner, a set of axes propped up against the wall. It doesn’t look like a dance studio, and for a moment my heart aches. Why doesn’t he have a nicer space? Surely he can afford it.

“Cool, huh?” Ansel says as he presses a few of the buttons on the speaker, but nothing happens. It’s just still—a silent, empty space.

Suddenly the door flings open, and we both jump slightly. Samson and Cade are in the doorway, their gazes settling on us.

“Busted,” Ansel whispers as he moves toward Cade, letting him lift him up and carry him away. But before he disappears entirely, he turns to call back, “See you when you’re done!”

I don’t know what we’re meant to be doing, but that thought flees when Samson closes the door and steps toward me.

“Why are you in here?” he asks, his head cocking slightly, his arms folded across his chest.

I bite my lip. “I’m sorry. Ansel insisted. Did you really not want me to see?”

He hesitates before blowing out a breath. “I just don’t want shit from you about this too.”

“I’m not going to give you shit. If you like dancing here, then who am I to judge? I love to dance anywhere. Everywhere, really.” My gaze skates over his size. His hair almost brushes the ceiling. And if he’s using the axes… “But it is small. Don’t you want something bigger? A proper place?”

“Maybe one day. This works for now.”

I don’t know why he won’t just build something. My confusion must be written on my face again, because he sighs and rubs his beard. “Look, I guess it was…beaten out of me, okay? Dancing, anything that was considered feminine wasn’t accepted. So I had to hide it. I guess I like this because it’s unassuming. And until Neo blasted it to everyone, it was my little secret.”

My throat tightens, and I can’t help but move toward him, wrapping him in my arms, pulling him in close. “Samson, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Well, I am, and you can’t make me feel otherwise.”

He laughs softly, running a hand over my hair, fingers curling in it, tugging my chin up. His eyes meet mine, and his hips roll forward slightly.

“How was your meeting?” I manage to ask, my voice breathless.

“Fuck the meeting.”

That’s all he says before his lips slam onto mine. His tongue pushes into my mouth like it belongs there. I can’t help but moan, opening wider, giving him everything he’s demanding.

I must taste like champagne and oranges, because he licks into every corner of me, getting drunk off the taste. When he finally pulls back, I feel his hard length throbbing against my own.

Our hips are grinding against each other slowly, a filthy dance in this small, dark place, one he felt he had to keep hidden. One he’s been mocked for.

I know how that feels.

I don’t like it at all.